Never Stop
by May Glenn
Summary: "I failed." Percival had said his goodbye, had held Gwaine in his arms, waiting for the other knight to breathe his last. Only Gwaine never did stop breathing. Tag and Spoilers to 5x13: a quest for the Cup of Life featuring the continuing adventures of Gwaine, Percival, and Merlin.
1. Chapter 1

_**AN: Fix-it Tag to 5x13. This may be an unpopular opinion, but I was actually okay with Gwaine death-it was his last words that were heartbreaking. This Fix-it is dedicated to EffervescentAardvark, who was**_** n****ot**_** okay with Gwaine's death. This was written with her help, and with the help of Caitydid. I have so many**_** M****erlin**_** feels right now and I am writing about three fics at once, and I'm going to start posting them unfinished as I work on them. **_

...

"I failed."

Percival had said his goodbye, had held Gwaine in his arms, waiting for the other knight to breathe his last.

Only Gwaine never did stop breathing.

He didn't wake, either, which worried Percival. He was determined not to leave Gwaine before Gwaine left him—but Morgana was on the move and knew where Arthur was headed.

Still, somehow, he couldn't be bothered to care, not at this point, not with Gwaine right here, still alive, still breathing, so fragile, so unlike Gwaine. _I failed_, Gwaine had said, and Percival burst into tears again at the thought. He unbound Gwaine from the stakes in the ground and bundled him into both their cloaks, and still he held him. He couldn't let go.

"You have to go," croaked a voice from against his chest.

"Gwaine?" Percival started, holding Gwaine out at a distance, cradling his head so he could look at him properly. One ear was trickling blood, and his eyes, though open, were unfocused. "Gwaine, hush, don't—don't talk." He touched his brow, which was still warm, still felt like life, wrenching his heart with hope, though Gwaine gasped with difficulty and his limbs did not so much as twitch.

Suddenly Gwaine was shuddering in earnest, and tears streamed down his face. "Don't you fail him, too. Please."

"Gwaine, _you did not fail_—"

Gwaine wasn't listening. He never listened. And Percival was scared just hearing him talk, his voice sounded so dangerously weak. "Please, Perce, go. Y-you have to go—go. Don't waste time with me."

Percival wanted to strangle him, but that might have defeated his purpose. "Then don't argue," he said, having made his decision and feeling much better about it. He whistled loudly, and his well-trained chestnut mare trotted toward him, with Gwaine's less well-trained stallion trotting behind. "You're coming with me."

It was probably a good thing, then, that Gwaine chose this moment to lose consciousness. Percival eased Gwaine into the saddle and pulled himself up behind, and set off after Morgana.

…

He found Morgana's body. She was definitely, completely dead. And Gwaine yet remained alive. Percival wished Gwaine was awake to see this, though: it might help him see _he hadn't failed_, but Gwaine was unconscious against the neck of the horse.

Percival left her body for the crows.

He found Merlin on the shore of the Lake Avalon. There was a boat now, in the distance, and Arthur was nowhere to be seen. So Percival guessed.

The King was dead.

He couldn't bring himself to weep more than he already was, to feel worse than he already did. He turned back to Gwaine on the horse, touched his neck to feel the slowly thrumming life there, and dropped the reins to approach Merlin.

Merlin turned when he heard horses approaching, fully expecting an attack of some kind, eyes already a furious gold, rimmed in red. But the color flickered out as he saw not an enemy, but Percival, and two horses behind him.

"Percival?" he asked, and then looked past Percival to the horses. His heart nearly stopped. "What's happened? What's wrong, I thought you were—" he stopped, gaping, because Gwaine was slouched over the horse's neck, and he was perfectly still. He stepped forward to meet Percival. "Please, tell me he's not... he can't be..." he said to the tall knight.

Percival shook his head as Merlin approached Gwaine. "Morgana," he said. "The Nathair, she—he was screaming for..." Percival didn't want to talk about it. "Will he be all right?" he asked the junior physician, laying a hand low on Gwaine's back.

As Merlin reached out a hand to touch Gwaine, however, Gwaine's breath hitched, and he gave a full-body shudder. Merlin immediately took his hand away, his eyes shooting to Percival, who shrugged and wrinkled his brow. "Gwaine," he whispered, and the other knight's eyelids fluttered but did not open, but he did manage to whisper, "Perce," before he fell still and silent again.

Gwaine wasn't dead. Merlin let go a breath he didn't realize had caught in his throat when he'd thought his friend dead. "I don't know," Merlin answered, reaching towards Gwaine's arm again and then stopping. "We need to get him to Gaius, quickly. How did this happen?" he asked Percival, letting current concerns distract him from...from everything else. He couldn't let Gwaine die, not after Arthur. He couldn't. "Gwaine, hold on, _please_," he said to his friend, and then looked at Percival. "I don't have a horse," he admitted, not in the least caring if this rang some suspicious bell in Percival's mind, because that was really... really unimportant just now.

Percival nodded at Gwaine's horse, bidding Merlin climb on. But as he passed, Percival took the servant gently by the arm. "Arthur?" he said more than asked.

Merlin shook his head, and looked away as tears streamed down his face. Percival nodded, squeezed Merlin's arm, and helped him onto the horse as he stumbled from exhaustion. Then, wearily, he got up on his horse behind Gwaine, and pulled the smaller knight back against his chest and took the reins. He was surprised by the noise Gwaine made, a small whimper that was most unlike him as his head flopped back against Percival's shoulder. Refusing to weep, Percival wrapped an arm around Gwaine's chest and gave his horse a nudge in the direction of Camelot.

...

There was too much pain everywhere, far more than Gwaine wanted to, or could, deal with. He was cold, and his head pounded, blurring his vision. His failure weighed heavy on his chest, sickening his stomach. Merlin was there, a reminder of his failure to be worthy of even one friend. And he heard them speak of the death of Arthur.

He had led Morgana to him. His failure was complete.

Percival's touch was the only thing that did not hurt. The only thing that was comfort and not pain. He could be still when Percival was near. Percival was warm, was rest, was—

Well, maybe he'd managed one friend.

And oh, how Gwaine hated him for it. He wanted desperately to leave, to die. He was tired, he had failed, and he was done. But Percival wouldn't let him go.


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: This chapter (and this work, really) is dedicated to Effervescent Aardvark on her birthday today (even though she's helping me write it, which is really not classy of me, but whatevs)! Also thanks to Caitydid, also co-writing this fic with me.**

...

With Gwaine injured, the trio couldn't make it back to Camelot before dark. They made camp, and while Percival tried to make Gwaine as comfortable as possible, Merlin built a fire and made something edible out of what little he could find in the knights' saddle bags. He tried very hard not to think while he did all the chores he was used to doing, that he'd done for the knights and for Arthur hundreds of times. Except now there was no Arthur, and only Percival and Gwaine.

Eventually Merlin gave up on repacking saddlebags that didn't need repacking and sat back on his heels, shoulders hunched forward as he stared at the ground. Arthur was _gone_. Gwaine had almost been killed, and Merlin didn't know how that had happened. It didn't actually matter how it'd happened, he decided, only that he'd very nearly lost his two best friends in one day—could _still_ lose them both, in fact. When he closed his eyes in an attempt to regain his composure, he saw only Gwaine as he'd last seen him: handing him his own sword, never mind that he had to journey back through woodland infested with bandits and enemy soldiers, and letting him keep a secret they both knew Gwaine already knew. And he'd known, he'd _known_ when he'd seen that look, that Gwaine thought he didn't trust him, and he'd thought at the time that he would deal with it later. And...and now there might not _be_ a later.

The smell of burning stew startled Merlin out of his painful thoughts and he jumped up to remove it from the fire.

"Stew," he announced softly, looking over towards Gwaine and Percival.

Percival nodded distractedly from where he leaned over Gwaine, who appeared to be sleeping or unconscious again. He had taken the opportunity to unclasp Gwaine's shoulder plates and remove his gloves and bracers. Then, easing Gwaine into a sitting position, he tugged the smaller knight out of his chain mail until he was only in his much more comfortable tunic. Finally he wrapped the blankets and cloaks more tightly around Gwaine and laid him back flat.

Now Percival turned back to the fire, to where Merlin was despondently stirring the stew.

"Thanks," Percival said as Merlin handed him a bowl. He glanced at Gwaine, who was out like a light, and decided the first bowl would be his, and wolfed it down. Now the knight turned his attention to Merlin, who was even less talkative than usual. Percival was not usually good with words, but he'd seen how close Arthur and Merlin had been—the loss was surely hitting him harder than most—and he had to try:

But when he opened his mouth to speak, Percival noticed the sword at Merlin's belt: "Is that Gwaine's sword?" he asked.

Merlin stiffened, looking down at the blade as if he'd forgotten it was there. "Oh. Yeah," he said. "He... he gave it to me," Merlin added, looking dully at the blade. He stood and clumsily removed it, because swords had never suited him, and Gwaine should have his sword back— Merlin certainly didn't deserve it. Then he sat back down, curled his knees up to his chest, wrapped his arms around them, and rested his chin on his knees. He didn't say anything to Percival, because he had nothing to say. But when the knight was done eating, Merlin held up the second bowl and looked over at Gwaine.

"If he can eat..." he said, and was glad when Percival rose and went to see if he could get Gwaine to swallow some of the stew.

Gwaine opened his eyes as Percival knelt beside him. His hand was warm on his face. "Hey, Gwaine, can you eat something?" he asked, touching the spoon to his lips.

Gwaine stiffened, murmured a negative, and jerked his head away, but gave no other sign. His eyes, when they fluttered open, were vacant and lifeless, and if he could see at all Gwaine did not look at him, which worried Percival. Swallowing hard, Percival set aside the bowl and instead lifted Gwaine, pulling him against his chest. "Gwaine," he whispered, "don't you leave me," but he wasn't certain he wasn't already too late. He wasn't certain Gwaine hadn't been gone already—maybe when they hanged Eira, or maybe earlier, when he'd come back from escorting Merlin to—

"Why did he give you his sword?" Percival asked, twisting back around to face Merlin, careful of the still form he held in his arms. "What happened when he brought you to the Valley of the Fallen Kings?"

"He wanted me to be able to defend myself against bandits," Merlin responded, raising his head from his knees to look briefly at Percival before he dropped his chin back down and resumed staring at the fire. For the briefest of seconds, he saw, overlaid on their fire, the fire where he'd conjured the dragon for Arthur. Then he shook his head, forcing the thought away. "And then he wished me luck and he left," he said dully to Percival. There was also that part where he'd given Merlin ample opportunity to just admit it, admit he was doing something magical. He'd given him the chance to _trust_ him, and Merlin had just thrown it back in his face.

But this short answer wasn't, apparently, good enough for Percival: "He said he failed," he pressed. "And it wasn't just about what he told Morgana. Why did he think he failed?"

Merlin took a deep breath, no matter that it didn't steady him at all, and squeezed his eyes closed. Should he tell Percival? Was there any point to this stupid charade anymore? Merlin wasn't sure he even cared about the answer to the last one.

"I didn't... I didn't tell him," he said. "He asked me, he gave me the chance, and I just... let him leave. I didn't tell him, I didn't say anything, and he..." he could be dying, Merlin wasn't sure. "I can do magic, Percival. Gwaine knows, but I never told him. He as much as asked me if that's what I was doing at the cave, and I didn't say anything, and he thinks..." Merlin stopped, because it felt like the words were caught up, along with all of his breath, in a tight throat. He'd already cried so much today. He couldn't do this, he just couldn't. Gwaine, with his heart of absolute gold, thought he'd failed. It made Merlin's heart hurt, what little was left to feel. "I think... Does he think he failed _me_? Because I wouldn't tell him?" Merlin asked Percival, although it was probably more of a statement than a question.

Percival's heart was tangled in his throat, and he was surprised by a rush of anger that brought tears to his eyes. "Why?" he demanded. He never thought he'd speak to Merlin this way (and certainly not after he knew he had magic), but it rent his heart to hear how Merlin had treated Percival's best friend. "Why didn't you—" he stopped, to get a hold of himself, and turned back to the figure of Gwaine, pale and lifeless: but that only made it worse. The anger bled out of him and his shoulders drooped as he viewed the other knight, wrecked as he was. "Gwaine has enough hang-ups about friends and friendship," he said, quietly, almost to himself. "He'd do anything for the least of us and never expects—" he choked here again, and wiped at his eyes furiously. "He gave everything to protect Arthur, and you, and he thinks he failed you both and—" No. He couldn't say anymore. Merlin didn't deserve this. Percival sniffled and tried again. "Anyway, the magic doesn't seem to matter anymore, does it?" he said with a shrug. "I asked Gwaine about it once I suspected—he didn't even give you away when _I_ asked him, so."

Merlin wasn't sure what he was supposed to say to any of this. Gwaine had known about his magic, but he hadn't told Percival even when Percival _asked_? He'd kept Merlin's secret from everyone without even being asked, and all he'd asked for in return was the truth of what he'd _already known_, and Merlin hadn't been able to even give him that much. No wonder Gwaine had hang-ups about friends, if he managed always to find ones like Merlin. "I'm sorry," Merlin said, earnestly meaning it. He couldn't fix any of this. He couldn't bring Arthur back, he couldn't fix Gwaine, he wasn't entirely sure he could be bothered to put himself back together, except he'd have to if he wanted to do what he could for his friend. All that magic, all that nonsense about destiny and two sides of the same coin and the most powerful warlock the world had ever seen, and he'd finally screwed everything up so thoroughly that it couldn't be fixed. "If anyone failed, Percival, it wasn't Gwaine," Merlin said, finally. "I can't… my magic is useless at healing, but…" but he had to do _something_, because he couldn't let Gwaine die. "Can I—is there something I can do? I can take watch or—or anything." He looked around the camp, almost frantically, for something to do, something to distract himself because it was better than the alternative.

Percival's eyes were still on Gwaine. "You should have a look at him. I don't—I don't know what to do."

Merlin hesitated before approaching Gwaine because he didn't want to upset him. He wasn't sure why Gwaine had avoided his touch earlier, but he had an idea. Merlin had failed miserably at being a friend, especially recently, and he didn't exactly blame Gwaine for wanting him nowhere near him, but Merlin couldn't help him from all the way across camp. As far as he could see, Percival had only got Gwaine out of his armor and kept him warm, which was better than nothing, but Gwaine needed a physician—or at least a physician's apprentice. He was so silent, so still, Merlin was almost scared he'd find that Gwaine was...but he did it anyway, knowing that in this small way at least he could maybe help Gwaine.

He crouched at Gwaine's side and did as thorough of an examination as he could by sight alone first, not wanting to disturb him further. The knight's face was very pale, and his eyes darkened in shadow, and his brow creased in pain or something else Merlin didn't want to think about. His breathing was very shallow and almost wheezy, like he had something in his lungs. When Merlin finally had to touch him, Gwaine did react: it was with a small, breathy whimper that sounded nothing like Gwaine, and a sound they wouldn't have heard if they hadn't been listening for it. But after this, and a small shift, Gwaine was still again, and Merlin released a breath he hadn't noticed he'd been holding.

"I'm so sorry, Gwaine," he said, although he wasn't sure Gwaine would even hear him, and continued looking his friend over for injuries. The familiarity of the work steadied him, marginally, pushing everything else to a bearable distance so he could do this one thing for Gwaine. There was blood caked in one ear and in his hair, but it looked like there was no more fresh blood. He was warm to the touch, and Merlin felt sick as he saw the side of Gwaine's neck raw with bite-marks. His veins were painted black over most of his neck and shoulder, and it smelled vaguely of pitch.

"He was…he was bitten a lot," Merlin said, his voice uneven.

"I heard the screams," Percival ground out.

"The Nathair poison isn't usually fatal, in small doses," Merlin explained carefully, because quoting from Gaius' books was safer than using his own words and this was not a small dose by any stretch. "It causes—" but no, it was too obvious that Gwaine was in 'agony beyond the limit of human endurance.' "It sucks the truth out of the person, no matter—no matter how much they resist. It, ah, it looks like Gwaine resisted. A lot."

Percival dug his fingernails into his palms and nodded.

"I should," Merlin struggled to his feet, "I'll see if I can make some willowbark tea, to help with the pain." He didn't think it would work, but anything was worth a try. "You should try to wake him up, talk to him if you can. If nothing else, he needs to drink some water."

Merlin paused by the fire to get his bearings, since he hadn't really noticed where they'd come from. They usually tried to camp by water, so he listened, in silence broken only by Gwaine's wheezing breaths, for the trickle of a creek. Then he crashed off through the forest to his right. His supplies were with his and Arthur's horses, wherever they were in the world, but he knew he'd find a willow where there was water.

He chose a small willow, and tried to pull at the bark with his fingernails, since he'd forgotten a knife. When this didn't work, in a sudden fury, he glared at the tree, his eyes went gold, and all of the bark fell to the ground. Then he realized he'd as good as killed the poor tree, stifled an I-can't-do-anything-right sob, and his eyes glowed gold again. The bark plastered itself back to the tree, but then fell off as soon as the spell was done. Merlin hunched his shoulders. So now, in addition to not being able to save Arthur and doing Gwaine absolutely no good whatsoever, he'd killed a tree whose only crime had been having bark he couldn't pry loose with a fingernail. He couldn't do anything right. With a miserable sigh, he reached down and collected as much of the bark as he could use and stumbled back toward the campfire.

As Merlin moved away, Percival scooted closer to where Gwaine lay. He wasn't sure what hurt or where not to touch, so he started by laying a hand on Gwaine's brow. It was indeed warm, and now that his head was tilted to the right he could see the mass of raw black and red skin on his throat. "Gwaine?" Percival all but whispered, leaning down close. "Gwaine, can you hear me, mate?"

To his surprise and pleasure, Gwaine stirred, as if wrenching himself from a deep sleep. He made a noise in his throat that sounded like an attempt at words, but when nothing coherent formed he settled on nodding weakly, with a decided wince.

Percival didn't like the sound or look of this, and against his better judgment he pleaded, "Gwaine, can you talk to me? Please, Gwaine, I need you to wake up. Can you give me a sign?"

Now the noise he made was more of a tortured sob, and "Please," was all he managed. Dirty tears ran down his face.

"Oh, oh, easy, easy," Percival said anxiously, and before he knew it he had collected Gwaine in his arms. "Does this hurt?" he asked, a bit late he supposed, but better than never.

"No," Gwaine whispered. "Good."

Percival was not going to look a gift horse in the mouth that Gwaine was talking at all, and just thanked his lucky stars. He had been nearly catatonic before, and he feared this lucid spell wouldn't last long, so, "Here, can you drink something for me?" and when Gwaine gave a slight nod, he tipped the waterskin into his mouth. Most of it went down his chin, but some ended up in his mouth, and Percival saw him swallow. Then, "Where does it hurt, Gwaine?" he pressed gently.

Gwaine again made a horrible noise in his chest, like he was trying to clear it of something with a whine instead of a cough. "My head. Everywhere," he slurred. "Perce, p-please."

"Please?" Percival repeated dumbly. Gwaine hardly ever said _please_. "Please what, Gwaine?"

Gwaine's breath hitched. He seemed briefly confused before blurting out, "D-don' leave me." He was shaking, faintly. "I'm s-so, so, s-s-sorry. And tell M-Merlin I'm sorry." The tears were coming stronger now, and Percival came to the horrible realization that Gwaine was sobbing but for being too weak to actually do it right. He lifted Gwaine higher, pulling him closer against his chest, almost instinctively, like he'd try to calm a weeping child.

"God, Gwaine, I'm not going to leave you. You're the one trying to leave me," he said. And now he was crying, too. He was glad Merlin was gone, because it was Percival's awful duty (though he had little faith in himself to manage it) to be the strong one for both of his companions. But right now he needed help. He needed his Gwaine back. He needed direction. "What do you want from me?" he begged.

Percival had not expected an answer at all, so when Gwaine replied "Sing to me," he nearly burst into tears of joy and sadness at once, before a prickling in the back of his neck alerted him to how odd the request was. The whole conversation, he began to realize as goosebumps rose along his arms, was wrong, for all it had gone so well. And when Gwaine managed to speak again, panting heavily, Percival knew it was too easy: "And stop asking me questions," he said.

Percival gasped. Of course, the truth magic! "Oh, Gwaine!" he said, and held the other knight close, rocking him, starting to hum tunelessly because he was so, so, so desperately sorry and he couldn't ever do enough for Gwaine to make up for—

When Merlin returned to camp, he said nothing, only looked over at Percival and Gwaine and went immediately to the fire to make the tea.

"Merlin!" Percival cried urgently, and Merlin wheeled around in alarm. "Merlin, the venom—the—the magic, it, it's still in him!"

Merlin cocked his head, making sure he'd heard right, because was that not obvious? Hadn't he said that?

"No, I mean the magic. The truth spell, Merlin! You have to take it off him, he—if you ask him something, he can't not—" this was horrible to think about, and made Percival feel physically very ill, "answer."

Merlin brought willowbark tea with him as he went to Percival and Gwaine—two mugs, because there was no way Percival wouldn't benefit from it too—and crouched down, after he'd set the mugs within Percival's reach. Arms wrapped around his knees, he looked at Gwaine. "Can I... May I try to take the spell off, Gwaine?" Merlin asked, because he wasn't very well about to try anything he wasn't certain of on his best friend. Especially when Gwaine really didn't seem to want him nearby.

Gwaine shuddered—he didn't know why—as Merlin approached, but he nodded desperately at Merlin's question. "Make it stop," he begged, his voice thick. "Please, I'm s-sorry, I didn't mean to—for any of it," he added, distantly hoping that if nothing else Merlin would take pity on him. He hurt so much he'd actually quite forgotten what he was apologizing for, but he suspected it was one of those take-your-pick situations.

"Gwaine," Merlin said softly, his voice wavering dangerously. "Gwaine, none of this is your fault," he insistedy, completely ignoring that there were tears running down his face. He put a hand gently on his friend's neck and closed his eyes in concentration. His magic wasn't working. It didn't want to do anything at all, but he kept at it, trying to at least contain the poison so that some part of Gwaine's body wasn't overrun by pain, to take away the compulsion to tell the truth, but he wasn't sure it was working at all. Still, he tried until he was gasping for breath and had given himself a headache, and then took his hand away, unfolding so he could sit down instead of crouching. He blinked blearily at Percival, and then at Gwaine.

"I don't know if that helped," he admitted helplessly to both of them. "But the willowbark..." he added, nodding at the two cups of tea before drawing his knees back up to his chest.

Percival was still holding Gwaine, otherwise he would have steadied Merlin. "Thank you for trying Merlin," he said, reaching out a hand to pat the servant on the shoulder before reaching for the willow bark tea. "You should get something to eat." His attempts to get Gwaine to drink any were essentially futile, however, for Gwaine's moment of lucidity had passed, and as much as he got down he almost immediately coughed up—along with a black pitchy substance that Merlin said was the Nathair venom, though why it was in his lungs was worrying both of them.

After the last bout of coughing, Gwaine dropped back into Percival's arms, his body apparently exhausted, though his eyes were open. He wasn't even blinking, so Percival laid a hand over Gwaine's face and nudged his eyes shut. Gwaine gave a tiny shiver, but otherwise did not react.

Percival felt helpless, gripping Gwaine so tight he almost felt he might be crushing him, but he couldn't bring himself to let go or even loosen his grip for fear of losing his friend. His heart ached with wanting to help him, but just like Merlin, he was helpless to do anything to ease Gwaine's obvious pain. He wondered, briefly, if the singing he had requested really would help at all, and was reminded with a sickening pang that Gwaine had been compelled to tell the truth when he asked for Percival to sing to him.

_Lullay, lullow, lullylullay,  
Bewy, bewy, lully, bewy,  
Lully, lullow, lully, lullay.  
Baw, baw, my bairne,  
Slepe softly now.  
I saw a swete and semlysyght,  
Ablisful bird,  
A blossom bright,  
That murning made and mirth among._

It was a song his mother used to sing to him as a child, so he knew the tune and words well. Percival didn't think he had an exceptionally good singing voice, but he was pretty sure that wasn't the reason Gwaine wanted to hear him sing anyway.

_A Maiden moder mek and myld,  
In cradle kep,  
A knave child,  
That softly slept, she sat and sange.  
Lullay, lullow, lullylullay.  
Bewy, bewy, Lully, bewy.  
Lully, lullow, lully, lullay.  
Baw, baw, my bairne,  
Slepe softly now._

Merlin finished eating a bit of stew, though it pretty much tasted like nothing, and laid down, curling himself into his own bedroll and blanket on the opposite side of the fire. He was tired, in body and heart and everything else that could be tired. Trying to heal Gwaine didn't seem to have done much good, but the effort had cost him dearly. He was too tired to pretend that he didn't feel completely empty, drained of everything except perhaps a desperate sort of sadness. There was a giant yawning hole where yesterday—_yesterday_—had been his best friend and everything about him: the bickering, the absolutely endless orders (that Merlin had followed only occasionally), the hurled projectiles and the prat's mostly unsympathetic amusement at Merlin's incessant, though half-hearted complaints. Merlin closed his eyes, hoping to cut off this train of thought. It didn't work.

_"There must be another Arthur, because this one's an idiot." _He'd been ready to pack up and go home, except his mother would have sent him right back…

_After Freya, when Arthur had decided there was something wrong, and the prince had grabbed him in a headlock and rasped his knuckles against the top of his head. When Merlin laughed and squirmed free, Arthur had looked at him, and grinned. "That's better."_

_ "No man is worth your tears."_ Well, he'd certainly got that one astoundingly wrong.

_"All those jokes about you being a coward… I never really meant any of them. I always thought you were the bravest man I ever met."_

_"Just hold me. Please." _Merlin gave up all pretense of sleeping and hunched his shoulders under the blanket, burying his chin in his chest and just waiting for it to _stop_. Percival, across the fire, was singing to Gwaine, a sad-sounding lullaby that Merlin didn't know the words to and couldn't quite hear, but the sound seemed to chase away some of the weight that seemed to be pressing down on him, and he uncurled slightly to listen. Then the song trailed off and stopped, and Merlin exhaled softly.

Percival had been about to tell Merlin to lay down nearer to them, rather than all the way across the fire, but before he could speak, Merlin shifted: "Keep singing, please," he said, fully aware that he sounded like a five-year-old with nightmares, and not caring.

So Percival did sing, until both of his companions drifted off to sleep, and for some time after. When he had run out of lullabies he sang a few children's rhymes, and after that he resorted to pub songs. He stayed watch all night, and didn't let go of Gwaine.


	3. Chapter 3

Percival got them to Camelot by nightfall the next day. They did not stop, and they rode as hard as they could manage with Gwaine cradled against Percival's body on the one horse. The way was easier now that they didn't have to hide, but the world was in turmoil at the loss of leaders on either side. The travelers spoke to no one, and let no one see them. The knights' two cloaks became swaddling to wrap the poisoned Gwaine in. They traded horses at a small town, Merlin paying them in cash so no one knew they were the King's men.

Gwen was waiting for them as soon as they rode through the gates. There was no telling what she suspected about the body in Percival's arms—but anyway it was not the King, dead or alive, and as Percival took Gwaine straight to Gaius he left Merlin to speak to the Queen.

Merlin had already known that the first person he would have to speak to when they arrived home was Gwen. She deserved to know that Arthur wasn't coming back, and someday Merlin would probably tell her what had happened, but he didn't think he could tell anyone right now. Not Gaius, or Leon, or even Gwen. So, instead, he walked up to the Queen, who was looking in confusion after Percival. When she turned to look at him, she knew. He could tell she knew, because she went pale and shook her head only once.

"I'm so sorry, Gwen," Merlin said, standing with his hands in fists at his side, not sure whether Gwen would appreciate sympathy or simply blame him for not bringing her husband home. He flinched when she stepped forward and threw her arms around his neck, then realized she was hugging him, and he wrapped his arms around her waist. "'M sorry," he said again. They stood there for several minutes, weeping in silence, before Gwen straightened and squared her shoulders, pulling herself back together.

"Was he...?" she started, but didn't finish her question.

"He wasn't alone. I don't—I don't think he was in much pain. I'm sorry," Merlin said again, and Gwen put her hands on his shoulders. She was still crying, but there was no one to see except Merlin. The courtyard had become surprisingly quiet, leaving the king's wife and his best friend mercifully unbothered.

"Merlin, this is not your fault." He wished he believed that, but he didn't say anything, and Gwen continued. "Thank you. I must go tell Leon and the others, they have been waiting for news. Go see Gaius, he's been worried about you. We've _all_ been worried about you," she said, and gave him one more hug. Then she let go, and went back into the castle. Merlin stood there in the absolute emptiness of the courtyard and strongly considered, duty of telling the queen done, leaving Camelot. He did not want to be here, where everything was a memory. And then he sighed, because if Gwen could pull herself together, he could probably manage, and there was still Gwaine to look after.

Once he was sure everyone was okay, he could leave.

In the apothecary it was dark and musty, and Gaius was mixing medicines. "Gaius," Percival said as he pushed in the door, and his voice was hoarse: it was the first word he had spoken all day, and after all night singing, it was really no wonder.

Gaius looked up and, seeing the figure in Percival's arms, leapt to action. "Put him on the bed. What happened?"

"Morgana—the Nathair—she tortured him," Percival managed as he laid Gwaine out on the sickbed.

Gaius made a quiet examination of his patient, before he _had_ to ask: "And the King?"

Percival was so numb the words didn't seem to matter anymore, even as tears he did not know he still had left to shed poured down his face. "The King is dead."

There was a long, tense pause, but Gaius recovered quickly, the task at hand needing his full attention.

"Merlin's here," Percival said, because he supposed Gaius would like to know. "He's with the Queen. What can I do?"

"Get yourself a drink of water, your voice is painful to listen to," Gaius ordered, not looking at him. He immediately found the source of Gwaine's ailment in the bitemarks on his neck. He was trained in not reacting obviously to obviously mortal injuries, but this did not look good. He went to his table to begin mixing a few antitoxins that he suspected would be wholly inadequate for the job. Of course he remembered when Elyan had been afflicted with the same problem: Elyan had been bitten just enough for the information Morgana had wanted then, and even he had been close to catatonic for days. Morgana had clearly tortured Gwaine for information, yes, but then she went and tortured him _to death_. He was frankly surprised Gwaine had not died outright. "Sir Percival I'll need you to stoke up the fire and put a few more blankets on him. Any way we can leach the poison from his system will help."

Just as Percival set to work, the door burst open, and Sir Leon appeared.

"Sir Percival," he said, and his eyes flickered worriedly to Gwaine. "How is he?"

Percival shrugged bitterly.

Leon hardened his jaw and straightened. "May I speak to you outside?"

Percival glowered up at him, and looked about to refuse, but with a quick glance at Gwaine sleeping soundly and safe under Gaius' care, he nodded and followed Leon outside.

"What did you _do_?" Leon hissed as soon as they were outside, and Percival realized suddenly that he was angry. "Was this Gwaine's idea? Sir Percival, a national crisis is _not_ the time to be hunting down personal vendettas! What happened?"

Percival was instantly livid, leaping to the defense of his friend since Gwaine couldn't defend himself (although Percival suspected that Gwaine wouldn't do so right now, even if he were capable). "Would you have rather I let him go on his own?" he would have bellowed back, if not for the raw state of his voice.

"You were needed _here_!"

"And Gwaine needed me with him!"

Leon sighed. "All right," he said, and pinched the bridge of his nose wearily. "I just was—" it didn't matter what he was, though, and Percival's antagonism only made him regret his outburst. They were all under a lot of strain, nerves were running high, and apparently he was not himself immune. And although Gwaine and Percival's actions had hardly been protocol, now was not the time to be waving the Knight's Code in people's faces. "I'm sorry. We needed you here, is all. We've lost enough as it is, I can't have you—"

"Gwaine was _lost_ before he rode out of Camelot. And we may yet lose what is left of him if you do not let me go back in there," Percival said, sizing Leon up as the man stood between him and the door. "I need to be with him."

Leon did not recognize the eyes of the man who stood before him: they were bleak and desperate. Was Sir Percival so lost, too? "Sir Percival," he started, more compassionately, but Percival drew away, his shoulders shaking, unable to accept comfort right now, when he needed to be strong.

"Sir Leon," Merlin, who rounded the corner to see the two knights in an altercation, offered: "You might also have lost me if Percival and Gwaine had not ridden out and found me, after—after—" he paused, took a breath, found his voice again: "Sir Leon, Arthur is—" he stuttered. "The king is dead."

Leon turned a pale shade of green, but to his credit, he did not lose control. "I should—the Queen—" he stammered.

Merlin and Percival stood by, heads bowed.

Leon rallied and clasped Percival by the shoulder. "Percival, please. Do not make me lose you, as well. There are too few of us."

Percival held his gaze for a long moment, but did not reply before he pushed past him back into the apothecary.

...

_**AN**: Apologies for the shortness of the post and the length of time it took me to get this posted. I'm currently working on a few other Merlin fics as well as just starting a new semester, so I do what I can. Thanks in advance for your patience, and thanks for reading. We'll see how Gwaine is doing in the next chapter._


	4. Chapter 4

The poultices weren't working. Gwaine wasn't drinking even water, so Gaius couldn't get any medicine into him. The poison seemed to have spread through his whole system and the physician had honestly run out of options. He sat back with a sigh, and pushed Gwaine's hair out of his face, even that indignity didn't get a reaction from the knight. Feeling the eyes and expectations of Percival and Merlin lying heavily on him, Gaius reached for his lancets. He knew in his heart of hearts that this was a hopeless cause, but they'd all lost so much this day that he was willing to try even this. If Gwaine had been awake, had been suffering, he wouldn't have gone this far, as with the poison running through his whole system, in his lungs, this wasn't going to work…but he couldn't bring himself to stop trying just yet. Holding the rag in place to soak up the blood, Gaius carefully opened one of the blackened veins on Gwaine's shoulder, the sharp nick of the lancet blade not even causing a wince from his patient. The blood however ran sluggishly, thick and black from the poison it contained.

Percival stood up with half a mind to protest, but Merlin held his arm, and the sight of Gwaine's blood running black actually caused Percival to step back, out of sight of it. It filled the room with a coppery smell like dirty coin, and Percival had to swallow hard to keep from retching.

"This may help to reduce the amount of poison in his body," Gaius announced, his voice low and steady, not for the benefit of his patient, who didn't so much as stir, but for the pair behind him. He hadn't had a chance to speak with Merlin alone yet, but keeping another friend from dying would do him more good than a hug or word of encouragement right now, so Gaius focused on that—even if his heart told him it was useless. "Merlin, will you mix a yarrow poultice?" There was no telling how long the blood would run black, but Merlin leapt up immediately to work. Merlin touched his elbow with a bowl full of paste, and Gaius nodded.

Gwaine's blood was now coming a bit faster, soaking the cloth, but still quite black in color, and Gaius was faced with a difficult decision: did he stop now before Gwaine bled to death, but risk leaving too much poison coursing through him? Had the poison already blackened all his blood, and there was no more use in bleeding him at all? Or did he let it run until it ran clear, to get as much of the Nathair venom out as possible, even if the loss of blood also weakened him?

Gwaine's sudden, pained attempt to cough, and the black venom that came with it, answered Gaius's unspoken questions and with a regretful sigh, he briefly put pressure on the tiny wound to help it to clot. There was no getting around it. There was nothing else to be done. He cleaned the small cut, and then carefully wiped the venom from Gwaine's lips before dropping the blood soaked rag into a bowl, before standing up with a tired sigh. So much death and they were all so young. They seemed like mere boys to him, playing at soldiers. Standing up, he headed over to stoke up the fire and picked up an extra blanket. There was nothing more to do other than make the man as comfortable as they could. Some days Gaius hated his job, and he turned to the two onlookers knowing he was going to hate what came next even more.

"I am afraid," Gaius began, and with those two words the verdict was already said—Percival turned pale and sat down heavily, and Merlin turned green before he put his face in his hands—but he continued, "the best we can do is keep him comfortable at this stage. There is too much poison in him." The will to live, which Gaius usually put so much stock by, especially in the case of the knights, who were nothing if not spirited, mattered little in this case. But Gwaine seemed to have lost even this.

The room was silent, except that Merlin had begun to sob quietly, and Gaius went to him, putting a hand on his shoulder and drawing him into an embrace. No one spoke for some time, so Gaius took it upon himself, once Merlin had recovered somewhat, to put them to simple tasks.

"Merlin, why don't you build up the fire? Sir Percival, can you see if he wants some water? And even if he's not awake he can probably still hear you, so do talk to him if you want."

This seemed to help, but not much. Percival's legs shook as he stood to move his chair closer. Merlin's eyes were red and he still wept intermittently.

This was how Sir Leon found them, when he returned.

He opened his mouth to speak, but Gaius only shook his head and drew him to the far corner, away from where Percival and Merlin sat over Gwaine's bed.

The darkness in their eyes confirmed what he dared not say out loud, and Leon was for a moment stunned, looking to the old physician for support and finding none.

"Gaius?" he stammered after a moment of silence. "Gaius—can nothing more be done?"

Gaius only shook his head.

Leon's lip quivered, so he bit down on it. Swallowing thickly, "How long?" he asked.

Gaius frowned. "A day, perhaps. Maybe two."

"But not in the next few hours?"

"No, probably not," Gaius said. This sounded like worse news.

Leon was also frowning. "The elders and councilmen wish for the Queen's coronation ceremony to take place as soon as possible. I would not wish to take you from you patient. But Sir Percival ought to be there."

...

_**A/N**__: As ever, thank you for your patience, and for your favorites, alerts, and reviews! Special thanks to Effervescent Aardvark for her help writing this chapter! _


	5. Chapter 5

Since Percival had seemed reluctant to leave Gwaine's side, Merlin had offered to stay with him while Percival went to the Queen's coronation. So he sat in the chair that had taken up permanent residence next to Gwaine's bedside and stared at his hands.

"I'm sorry, Gwaine," he said, which he'd said plenty of times, and would keep saying until Gwaine actually woke up and heard him.

This time, Gwaine stirred at the sound of his name. How long had he lain here? Days? Years? The suffering made it seem so. Percival's voice never woke him: Percival made him feel safe, secure. It was too easy to sleep with his friend there. But Merlin: Merlin he needed to speak to, Merlin needed to know.

He groaned and shifted as he opened his eyes, his hand reaching out, clawing at air, even before he had his bearings. "Merlin," he slurred, his tongue clumsy from disuse.

Despite sitting there wishing Gwaine would wake up, Merlin started when his friend did just that. He reached out and grabbed the hand that was flailing away at the air, holding it back to Gwaine's chest so that he couldn't suddenly decide it was a good idea to sit up.

"Whoa, Gwaine, stop," he said, reaching over and grabbing a cup of water that was left sitting by the bed in case Gwaine should be aware enough to drink it. "Do you...um...water?" he asked, actually wishing fleetingly that Gaius were here and not at the coronation.

Gwaine turned away from the cup—the idea of anything in his stomach right now made him feel ill—but clung to Merlin's hand. "I'm sorry I failed you," he whispered, because he had to, because it was important, because it _hurt_. "The king would still be alive if I was only—if I had—" But no, he couldn't think of that, he couldn't deal with that now.

Merlin didn't try to pull his hand away, since Gwaine apparently wanted it and was saying something to him, but it took him several moments to fully grasp what Gwaine was saying. When he did, he went pale and set the cup down before he could drop it or spill the water everywhere. "Nothing that happened is your fault," he said vehemently, maybe even a little angrily, because he would not have Gwaine blaming himself for any of this. "Nothing, Gwaine. Do you understand?" he asked. "I _lied_ to you, and I didn't... I didn't get to Arthur fast enough, and I couldn't help you, and I'm _sorry_." He shook his head. "I'm sorry I lied to you," he added again, because this one thing he could actually apologize for. He couldn't apologize to Arthur for failing him, finally, in the end, for not being able to heal him with all this supposedly powerful magic he possessed, but he could apologize to Gwaine. "I can do magic. I should have told you, and I didn't, and I'm sorry."

This was all going a bit fast for Gwaine, and he struggled with his lungs for more air in what must have sounded a pathetic wheeze. Why was Merlin apologizing to _him_ now? That didn't make any sense at all, so he moved on to what did: "I already know, Merlin," he said, "about the magic," and he tried his best to smile reassuringly: "but thanks for telling me, anyway." Almost immediately his smile faltered. "I only—I'm sorry I wasn't someone you could tell sooner."

_Gwaine had already known? Of course he'd already known_. This made perfect sense to Merlin, and made him feel even more guilty. He'd _hurt_ Gwaine when he left him in the forest, he'd hurt his friend for _no reason whatsoever_, and now Gwaine was trying to make it seem like nothing, trying to make _him_ feel better. "I could always have told you," Merlin insisted. "You're my best friend. I should have told you, but I just..." he huffed a shaky sigh and dropped his eyes to his knees, "I just didn't."

Gwaine just nodded at that, and looked away. "You never had to. It doesn't matter," Gwaine said, staring vacantly at the ceiling. He couldn't feel his hands anymore, and he wasn't sure if Merlin had let him go. "Didn't expect you to tell me. Can't trust a drunk, womanizing vagabond," he said, his smile grim with remembering: he had betrayed the King—Merlin's _real_ best friend, only he was just being polite—by going off on an impetuous slay-ride and getting himself captured. "Sorry," he finished weakly, because there didn't seem much else relevant to say.

Merlin dropped Gwaine's hand and stood to pace, because pacing was something he did really well these days. "Stop. Stop apologizing. It's _my_ fault, Gwaine, and it _does_ matter. I didn't tell you because I am an idiot and a fool and I was _scared_ and I didn't want you to have to decide between loyalty to me and loyalty to Arthur, and now I've broken everything. Arthur is dead and it's _my_ fault because I couldn't save him, and you're hurt and I don't know what to _do_. I _can't_, Gwaine, alright? I can't do—I can't do _anything_ right, and I'm sorry. I'm sorry I'm selfish and I'm sorry I didn't tell you and please, please stop blaming yourself, because if there's any one person worthy of my trust in the whole world, it's you," he said in a desperate explosion of temper with himself, and the world, and everything in it (but mostly himself). And then he stood there where he'd stopped by his chair and let his knees buckle so he was again sitting, head cradled in his hands and his elbows on his knees. He buried his fingers in his hair and tried to regain some sort of composure, which was an absolutely lost cause. Any hard-won composure he'd found was completely gone, and he couldn't hardly even see the floor for crying. "I-I'm s-sorry," he choked out.

Gwaine was stunned, for a moment, for through the fog of fever and defeat, some of that got through, and maybe some of it he could believe. "Merlin." Gwaine said. He was trying to make his voice sound hard and demanding, but he wasn't sure it came across like that. But still, Merlin looked up, his voice tracked with tears. "C'mere."

Merlin looked at him a bit puzzled perhaps, but the nice thing about being on your deathbed was that people were generally eager to give you whatever you wanted, so Merlin scooted forward in his chair. "I'm here, Gwaine."

Gwaine shook his head and opened his arms out to either side, and though Merlin hesitated, Gwaine did not close them until Merlin was practically fallen across him, sobbing into his shoulder.

"You're _not_ selfish," Gwaine mused, laying his hand on the back of Merlin's neck. "You're incredibly selfless, most selfless man I ever knew. No one gives more than you do." He took a steadying breath, because he'd more or less prepared this speech since—well, he couldn't pinpoint it, exactly, but over the past few years Merlin had become more distant, more driven by some invisible power, and his decisions were obviously addled, and it had worried him. He should have spoken sooner. Now he was going to get it out if it killed him. "But the big things started overshadowed the little things, when they're important, too. It's like you got this—destiny, and you wanted to carry it on your own, and maybe you could've, but only if you put it first, before you, before your friends, before everything. And God love you, Merlin, it's only ended up fucking us in the end, anyway."

Merlin sat up and looked miserably at his friend. Gwaine didn't need to tell _him_ how bad destiny had fucked them all over. He decided if there was any consolation, he didn't have a destiny anymore. That was all gone. He closed his eyes, very carefully did _not_ let himself start sobbing again, because at some point it just became more tiring, and it wasn't helping anything anyway, and he was beginning to get a headache behind his eyes. "I know," he said miserably. "I didn't mean to put it before everything. I just thought... I thought I could stop—" he said, and ran a hand through his hair, which was looking more frazzled and wild the more he repeated this nervous motion, "stop all... this. And it didn't work." He was quiet for several breaths, and then he snorted. "Destiny," he said bitterly, "is, I think, a really cruel trick. Nothing else."

"I mean," Gwaine choked, shaking his head and grasping at Merlin's hand. A whole hell of a lot of good this speech was doing now. Gwaine had meant it to be comforting, a lesson, a paradigm shift for the better, but it sounded wrong out the other end, and Merlin's feelings were hurt and now Gwaine was gasping a little, and he felt hot and confused and maybe he didn't remember what he was talking about when he started, but this was important, this he would never forget, not if he lived a thousand years. It was a lesson he'd learned, but maybe Merlin never had: "I meant I wanted to help, with destiny, with whatever. I wish you'd have let me. You were the one that taught me that a good friend by your side is stronger than destiny, than everything. Only I don't think you ever realized it yourself. Friends are important, and _you're_ important, Merlin. Don't forget that," he wheezed, the relentless tightness in his chest making it hard to keep talking, and he slumped back reluctantly, not sure if he'd got through to Merlin or not. "Anyway, thanks for teaching me that."

This sounded suspiciously like a goodbye. "No, no, no, no, Gwaine," Merlin said, getting to his feet and leaning over Gwaine as his eyelids fluttered. "Gwaine, don't talk like that. You can't talk to me about friendship and then go and d—" he couldn't say it, too choked with emotion, and clapped his hands to his face like he always did when he was too upset to deal with it. "I've already lost Arthur, I _can't_ lose you too," he said, because that really would break him, he was absolutely certain, beyond all hope of repair. He looked around the room, as if expecting some solution to present itself. There had to be something he could do. Anything.

Gwaine's chest tightened. Leaving had never really bothered him for most of his life: he left towns, women, bars, and companions so regularly there was never any pain at the parting. But now it ached. It wasn't even the ordinary fear-of-death pain, no, he was honestly _welcoming_ that. But leaving Merlin, his first real friend, that wasn't fair. And leaving Percival, who needed him, that wasn't fair, either. And because Gwaine was so used to giving Merlin whatever he wanted, being unable to like this was hard. He swallowed, and reached to pat Merlin's knee, because Merlin wasn't looking at him. "You'll get on," he said. "You will. You've got a kingdom to look after. Anyway, I'm easy to get over," he said, forcing a wry smile. He only ever guessed he was easy to get over, because he never stuck around long enough. Speaking of leaving—

"No, Gwen has a kingdom to look after. I'm not good at looking after kingdoms," Merlin said, growling slightly out of sheer frustration. He looked down at Gwaine and closed his eyes for a second. "I will get on if I have to, because I have to, but... I don't _want_ to," he said miserably, looking at his friend as if the man might have some solution.

"Mer—lin," Gwaine gasped, but now he couldn't see and—and—now he had forgotten what he wanted to—but—"don't," he said, coughed, and was still. Gwaine's eyes blinked dully up at Merlin, and the warlock knew he'd lost the knight to fever-sleep again. He realized he was putting a lot of pressure on Gwaine. He was sick, and being sick wasn't something he could help. If someone was going to find a solution to this, it had to be him. He just wasn't sure how.

...

_**AN:** The most important chapter for me, because Merlin had some answering to do for how he treated Gwaine in the latter seasons (especially the fifth). And rather than just continuing to hate him, I thought I'd give him a chance to explain. Too bad Gwaine's still too out of it to get it. Thanks to Caitydid for co-authoring this chapter. _


	6. Chapter 6

Percival tried his best not to fidget through the ceremony, but he felt like he was being torn into separate pieces. He needed to be there for Gwaine, he needed to be strong for Merlin, he had to be _here_ as a Knight of Camelot, showing his support for the Kingdom and its Queen, but his skin was crawling with the need to get away from everyone. They were all looking at him to be strong, but Percival just felt like he was flying apart.

As soon as the ceremony was over, he darted out. He wanted to get back to Gwaine, but knew he couldn't keep the façade of strength up. He had to pull himself together first, so he headed for his place of refuge, where he could always went when the hustle and bustle of city life got to be too much. He headed for the stables.

Wanting to ask after Gwaine and Merlin, Leon tried to catch Percival's attention and trotted after him, trying to catch up to his longer stride, but he was distracted by another knight asking him something or other and by the time he'd gotten free of him Percival had disappeared. Muttering imprecations under his breath, Leon finally tracked Percival down. Luckily, as tall as he was, people tended to notice him, so a few questions and pointing fingers lead him to the stables. This was still taking way too long, though. He had things to do. Many, many things to do, and really didn't need to be chasing his knights around. As he burst into the stable, striding down to the end where Percival's horse was usually stabled, he didn't really know what he expected to find, but Percival curled up in a corner of the stall sobbing quietly was definitely not it.

Finding a strange, bony nag in place of his favorite horse had been the final straw. Percival dimly remembered trading in his well-trained chestnut for this horse back at the village when they'd been desperate for fresh horses, but he'd totally forgotten about it until, brush in hand, he'd come face to face with the replacement. Everything came crashing down on him and alone, in the darkness of the stables, he gave in to his grief.

Forgetting what he was going to say, Leon found himself down in the straw, his arms around Percival as he held the sobbing knight. He'd never seen Percival like this before. He was always so quietly cheerful and optimistic, his smile wide and quick. He hadn't realized how much he'd come to rely on the young, dependable knight, and now here he was, as broken as the rest of them.

"They keep dying, Leon. Everyone keeps dying." Leon slowly pieced together the words that Percival was sobbing into his shoulder, but for the life of him he couldn't think of anything to say and hoped his presence would be enough to comfort the other knight.

Taking a breath to steady himself, Percival couldn't bring himself to meet Leon's eyes. "My family, Lance, Elyan…when Gwaine, when Gwaine…I'll be the only one left. You realize that? All of Arthur's commoner knights, except for me, will be gone."

There really wasn't anything to say to that, so Leon held Percival, rubbing his arms, his shoulders until the sobbing died away. Eventually he felt Percival take a breath, steeling himself to face the world again with his mask back in place.

"Ready to go back to the infirmary?" Leon asked quietly.

Percival nodded shakily and Leon climbed to his feet, holding a hand out that Percival reached for and used to pull himself stiffly back to his feet, a sudden determination coming over him. This wasn't right. It wasn't fair. He was still alive while the best of them lay dying. There _had_ to be something he could do. Gwaine wasn't dead yet and his mother had always said 'while there's life, there's hope' and he couldn't remember his mother ever being wrong—and they had Merlin after all and Merlin was magic. He hadn't been able to help Gwaine before, but he'd got his strength back now, and maybe there was a spell or a sorcery they hadn't tried. There must be something they hadn't tried. Gwaine was still alive, he hadn't given up and Percival wasn't going to give up on Gwaine.

…

Gwaine hadn't been able to stay awake for very long after he and Merlin had spoken, although he had choked down some water. After he had fallen back to sleep, Merlin paced the room briefly, too worked up to sit still, before huffing a sigh and flinging himself down in the chair next to Gwaine's bed. He could _not_ lose his friend. This was not happening. Gwaine would be fine, Gaius was clearly wrong. He looked up from his hands briefly and listened to Gwaine's labored breathing. Gaius _had_ to be wrong. He had to be, because there had to be something they could do for Gwaine, though Merlin was currently too tired and worried to think of it.

Feeling kind of awkward, Percival had thanked Leon and now that he had himself back together again, headed determinedly back to the infirmary. He knocked before letting himself in. The scene didn't seem to have changed since he'd left in the morning. Merlin was sat by the side of an unmoving Gwaine. "How is he?" he asked.

Merlin was startled from his thinking by Percival's voice, standing so quickly in his surprise that he nearly knocked over the chair.

"Oh, he... he woke up, but not for very long. I got him to drink some water, but..." he said, and shrugged, indicating that Gwaine's condition really hadn't changed. He looked very carefully at Percival, whose eyes were more red than they'd been earlier when he'd left the room. "Are you okay?" he asked, realized this was probably the stupidest question in the world, and shook his head. "I mean, that is...well. Sorry," he added, stepping away from where he'd been sitting to offer Percival the chair.

"It's okay," Percival shook his head, letting Merlin keep the seat: he was Gwaine's best friend after all. "That has to be good, right? That he woke up?" He ignored the question about himself.

Merlin, rather than sitting back down, resumed pacing, though his chosen route didn't take him very far from Gwaine's bed. He shrugged one shoulder at Percival, torn between saying something that he knew was false but might buy the knight some happiness, and telling him the truth that would just upset him. In the end, he decided he owed Percival the truth, and shook his head once.

"It's... it doesn't mean a lot. The stuff is still in his lungs, and his blood," Merlin said. "I don't know what to do, Percival," he admitted, pausing in wandering around the room to look at Gwaine, motionless on the bed.

"But—" Percival looked around the room, although it was obvious there was no one else there. "Are you sure you can't...?" he held his hands up and wiggled his fingers in the way he thought maybe sorcerers cast spells.

Merlin couldn't help it. For the briefest of moments, he was amused at Percival's hand-signal, and he _almost_ laughed, but the amusement quickly faded. He shook his head. "I tried, remember? It didn't work, not really." Granted, Gwaine was no longer spouting the truth unless he wanted to, but that hardly counted as a victory when the poison was still killing him. He stopped pacing and in a moment of temper, slammed a fist down on the sturdy old table where he and Gaius usually ate their meals. "I am _useless_! There has to be _something_, but I can't..." he stopped, took a deep breath, and forced his hand to relax.

"You were exhausted before. Maybe it would work now?" Percival was too determined to find _something_ to back off so easily.

Merlin nodded. "Look, watch," he snapped, less at Percival than at everything else, and pointed at a candle. "_Forbaernen_," he told it, and the candle attempted to burst into flame by curling up a single little thread of smoke. "See? No magic. It's not working the way it should. I can't even light a candle," he growled, and maybe he was getting a little frustrated with Percival because why did he expect _Merlin_ to be able to save Gwaine? He'd clearly proven that he was not a whole lot of use in saving people.

"Why's it not working?" Percival asked. "Did you break it? Can you get it back? You've used it before right? Loads of times! I mean, I thought _ages_ ago...the people that tripped, the fires that suddenly flared up, just at the right moment."

"I don't know why it isn't working!" Merlin half-shouted, "But the lightning storm and Arthur and the past two days might have something to do with it," he said, which they might. Using an aging spell, plus the lightning storm, plus trying to keep Arthur comfortable... heaping stress on top of exhaustion was probably not helping the situation, and he was only making it worse by getting angry, but he couldn't help it. "I don't know, Percival, alright? I've been using magic since I was born and _it's not working_," he snapped.

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry, I just...there's got to be _something_. A spell? A sorcery? Have you got books or are there any other—" he wiggled his fingers again, "—people we can ask?"

"There might be spells, but I don't know them, and we don't have all the time in the world to sit around and try to find them, especially if they don't work," Merlin said, still frustrated, but trying really hard to answer Percival's questions. The man had, after all, been a perfect saint the past two days, looking after not just Gwaine, but Merlin's own sad self, and so Merlin owed him this much. Even if he was ready to light something on fire. "There are other magic users. The druids... they might know, I don't know, they've helped... they've helped me before. They helped Leon..." he trailed off, staring down at the table, his mind following from one thought to the next. "They had the cup," he said, suddenly. They had hidden the Cup of Life, the cup that would heal anyone who drank from it. "That's... Percival, you're brilliant!" Merlin said, looking up at the knight. If they could find the cup, perhaps they could save Gwaine.

Percival looked at Merlin, watching as the servant, well, sorcerer, lit up and he felt a weight lift from his shoulders. "This cup? It can help? Where is it? How do we get it?"

"It's the Cup of Life! If anything can help..." Merlin replied, already moving on to the next thing. He had no idea where the druids had hidden it, and he didn't really have time to go find them and ask, especially when they might not even tell him. "But I don't know where it is," he admitted, and paced another several steps. He was having trouble thinking.

"Okay, okay, but someone has to know." Percival wasn't going to let a little thing like that stop them, not when they were so close.

"The druids know, but I'm not sure where they are. I could scry for them, maybe, if I can get the spell to work," Merlin said absentmindedly.

"Scry?" Percival asked with a frown of puzzlement, "what's a scry?" He looked over at Gwaine, trying not to hope too much, but unable to help himself. They just needed him to keep hanging on. Merlin could do this, he knew he could.

"Scrying is a kind of spell. You use it to find something you're looking for," Merlin said. He wasn't sure he could even focus a scrying spell at the moment, the way his thoughts kept wandering off. He sat down and ran a hand through his hair again, trying to pummel his brain into working. He was missing something. He _knew_ he was missing something.

Percival looked at Merlin, realizing how pale he looked and how fragile. He'd been pushing the boy—sorcerer, had to remember that part—too hard. Standing up he headed to the table and wordlessly poured Merlin a drink of water and fetched it back over to him. "Maybe you should rest? It might help?" And yeah, he really didn't want to be saying that because who knew how much time Gwaine had left, but Merlin wouldn't be any help to them if he keeled over from exhaustion.

Merlin had long ago got in the habit of taking things that were handed to him, so he took the water without thinking, and then wrinkled his nose at it. Of course, then he realized that he was actually thirsty, and downed the whole thing. "I could try, but I don't think I'd rest," he admitted. The second he tried to sleep, he was going to be trampled by everything imaginable, and he was not eager to deal with it. Maybe he could just stay awake forever...

He looked down at the glass in his hand, mind wandering. He needed to find the Cup of Life. He had to.

He sat up suddenly, realizing what he'd been missing. Why scry for druids when he could just scry for the cup? Maybe he really was that tired. There was a picture of it in one of these books, so it would make a better focus anyway.

"What?" Percival asked, taking the now empty cup back as Merlin suddenly straightened, obviously hit by a thought. "What is it?"

"I can scry for the cup. We don't need to ask the druids. I just need a picture of it," Merlin said, suddenly focused, and stood up to scramble through the books on the table where he'd been sitting. "There has to be one here." He picked up a book and handed it to Percival. "Look for a picture of a cup in there. It's gold and it has four legs on a... a sort of pedestal." This was good. This was something he could focus entirely on, something that would keep everything else at bay. He flipped open a heavy book and started turning pages, not noticing when his eyes went gold and the pages started flipping faster of their own accord.

Percival started to look through the book Merlin handed him. He flinched a bit at the long indecipherable words on the page before reminding himself that that was stupid, he was looking for a picture, he could do this. As he flicked through the pages he couldn't help but become distracted by Merlin's book as the pages flicked of their own accord. Suspecting he was a sorcerer was one thing, knowing it was another, but actually sitting watching him do magic right next to him was in a different league. Percival really started to think that Merlin could pull this off.

"Here! Here, I found it," Merlin said, suddenly, and the glow went out of his eyes. The pages stopped whispering over and over and he held the book out to Percival so the knight could see what they'd be looking for. "Sorry, the words are all in the Old Religion, so they'll only give you a headache if you try to read them." He left the book sitting in Percival's lap and went blundering across the room for a bowl and the pitcher of water. Then he shoved a pile of books off the table and set down the bowl, filling it most of the way full with the water and waiting anxiously for the ripples to cease.

"Oh." Percival nodded, trying to keep up, at least that explained why he couldn't read any of the words in his book either. "But wait—didn't you say your—isn't your magic not working?"

"It is _going_ to work this time," Merlin said determinedly, teeth clenched.

Nodding, Percival watched wordlessly, trying not to disturb Merlin and break his concentration.

Merlin leaned over the bowl, barely even breathing for fear of disturbing the water. He glanced quickly over at Percival and then sighed, trying to let go of everything currently filling his brain to exploding. "_Geond lihte gesweorc min_," he said softly. The water rippled, but otherwise it did nothing. He scowled deeply and closed his eyes. He had to do this, it had to work. Another deep breath, and he opened his eyes. "_Geond lihte gesweorc min_," he repeated, and held on to the spell, willing the water to show him what he needed to know.

The headache behind his eyes was becoming exponentially worse, but the water, with a ripple of color, finally showed him something. It was like when he'd looked through the forest, but it was a longer path, and he memorized it, knowing this was the way to the cup. It was in a cave, the entrance of which was half-underground and behind a waterfall. Merlin blinked, but the spell didn't fade away. Instead, it flickered through several more images before settling on one that made little sense to Merlin.

He and Gwaine were fighting with what looked to be a wyvern, but he couldn't tell what else was happening before the picture rippled and he watched himself, Leon, and Gwaine ride pell-mell through the forest after a boar. Merlin shook his head and tried to break the spell off because it was sapping what little energy he had left, and these visions were absolutely pointless. It didn't work, but the picture shifted one last time, and he gasped as he saw Camelot as if from above, but clearly many years in the future. It stood as tall as ever, not a stone missing or cracked, but they were stained, moss grew on some of the walls, and the trees in the garden were enormous, their canopies tangling and blocking any view he might have had of the ground. The vision dipped a little wildly and he felt himself stumble slightly against the edge of the table as it stopped whirling and he saw three figures watching the castle from one of the nearby hills. He didn't recognize the horses, but as the vision took him closer to the three men, he recognized the men: Leon, Gwaine, and himself. They were easy to recognize, because none of them had aged a day. But Camelot... Camelot was old. This had to be fifty years from now, or a hundred, as big as the trees had grown.

"Merlin? _Merlin_!" Percival shook the smaller man's shoulder, alarmed at the blood that had started to drip from his nose and into the water, and the ashen tone of his skin. He'd pushed himself too hard. Damnit, if Gwaine was awake he'd _not_ be pleased.

When Percival shook his shoulder, Merlin jumped in surprise, his hand knocking the bowl and sending it to the floor. It broke the spell, though, and he raised his hand to his face, surprised when it came away with blood on his fingers. Bloody nose? Perhaps he'd pushed himself a bit far. "Thanks, Percy," he said a little shakily. This whole 'magic not behaving' thing was less than thrilling. Could he just count on it either not working at all or working too hard until it got sorted out? He leaned on the table and took a few deep breaths, but that was also not helpful, so he tried to make it to the chair over by Gwaine's bed. He made it to the foot of the bed, and then, "I think I need to sit down," he said, and did just that.

Percival carefully gathered Merlin up and then settled him gently in the chair next to Gwaine's bed. Looking around he grabbed a clean cloth to wipe his face with. "Can I get you anything?" he asked, kneeling next to Merlin, watching him intently.

Merlin, because he was not feeling terribly cooperative, batted at Percival's hands and held the cloth to his face, tipping his head back and pinching the bridge of his nose as Gaius would have told him to do. "I'm fine," he said, although he was considering taking a nap right there and then, bloody nose or not. "I know where the Cup is. I know how to get there," he informed the tall knight.

Percival's face lit up in delight and awe as he grabbed Merlin in a giant hug. "I _knew_ you could do it!"

Merlin wasn't so sure that Percy hugging him wouldn't just crush every bone in his body, and flinched slightly, but it turned out the man might have actually known his own strength, and Merlin was not squashed. He would probably have waved him off, because he really didn't feel well, but... but it was nice to hear he had done something right. So instead, he raised the arm that wasn't holding the cloth to his nose and patted Percival's shoulder very gently.

"I'll, uh... I think..." he said sleepily when Percival stepped back, but his eyes were already drifting closed, and he fell asleep or unconscious without finishing his sentence.

"I've got you," Percival smiled gently as he carried Merlin through to his own room. Placing the lad down on the bed, he undid the laces on his boots, pulling them off, before covering him with a blanket. That done, he went in search of Gaius, wanting someone who knew what they were actually doing to check on Merlin.


	7. Chapter 7

Merlin wasn't sure how it'd happened, since last he remembered, he'd been sitting in the chair by Gwaine's bed, talking to Percival, but he awoke in his bed. He didn't feel like he'd slept. Actually, he felt like he'd been run over by one of Arthur's horses, and for a split second, with his mind still half asleep, he thought he would tell Arthur that now his horses were getting fat, too. Then he remembered everything, in a rush so fast his breath hitched. He wouldn't be making fun of Arthur for being fat ever again (and it'd turned out he hadn't weighed all that much, anyway) and...

Merlin groaned and sat up. He swung his feet over the edge of the bed and tried to remember what he'd been saying to Percy. Something about the Cup of Life. And there'd been something else, something he'd seen that had nothing to do with making Gwaine better. The Cup hadn't let him not see it, which was probably why he felt like he'd recently been dead.

Oh right, now he remembered.

Merlin stumbled to his feet and went downstairs to find Leon standing, apparently having just entered. Percival was sleeping next toGwaine's bed, and Gaius was tying dried plants together- or had been. Now he was looking at Leon. They both turned and looked at him when he tumbled down the stairs and leaned against a table.

"Merlin?" Gaius asked, looking concerned, and stepped toward him.

"I need to talk to you. To Percival, too. Leon, you should probably stay as well," Merlin said softly.

Leon frowned, but nodded. As Gaius turned and gave Merlin his usual appraising stare, he went to Percival, softly touching his arm. Percival started, his eyes flashing from Leon, to Gaius, to Merlin, and finally to Gwaine, where they remained.

"I shouldn't've slept," he mumbled.

"We let you sleep. You need your rest. It's only been a few hours, and there's been no change."

Percival nodded blearily, and Leon straightened, turning back to Merlin. "Gaius was telling me you may have a plan to help Sir Gwaine."

"It's the Cup of Life," Merlin said bluntly, "It can heal any wound and cure any sickness. It will work, and I know where it is, but we have to get Gwaine close to it." He looked over at Gwaine, considering his friend with a frown, and then looked back at his mentor, who held out a cup of water for Merlin to drink. "Gaius, can Gwaine travel at all? I can't bring the Cup here quickly enough for him..."

Gaius frowned. "He is not wounded in a traditional sense, so yes. He will worsen no much more on the road than he would here, and as you say, the sooner you get him to the cup the better." He laid a hand on Gwaine's head, as if this told him everything he needed to know about his condition. "He will need to be kept warm and comfortable." Gaius' one eyebrow was raised, which usually meant he could tell what Merlin was about to say.

Merlin nodded, and then squirmed a little under Gaius' unblinking stare. He looked from Gwaine, to Percival, and then at the floor. "There's another... When I was scrying for the cup, I saw something else. A person cured by the cup is... they can't die. Ever. They're immortal," he said, not adding 'like me' to the end. They didn't need to know about that, and he didn't want to think about it. Who knew how long he'd be all alone in the world until Arthur came back? And even then, everyone else would still be gone. And then Arthur would eventually be gone again. This was not something he could cope with at the moment. He did, however, look over at Leon. "I thought you should know too, Leon," he said, and then dropped his eyes back to the floor.

Leon bridled, a good part of him at first insisting that this was wrong. But the Queen had made magic legal in Camelot again, and Merlin was-had always been-Leon stopped this line of thought as a newer, more urgent problem realized itself. "I should-what?" he stammered, as the full meaning of Merlin's words struck him. "Me?" The Druids had-he drank from some cup, of course-but he thought-everything had seemed like-

"You should sit down," Percival said, trading places with him and moving him to his chair.

"What does it matter if I am immortal?" Leon wondered bitterly, but somehow, without force. Somehow, he had always known.

"And this will make Gwaine immortal?" Percival asked, dared to hope. Finally, he would never have to worry over his friend's recklessness ever again. He would never have to worry for any of them. "We should go now!"

Merlin had nothing helpful to say to Leon, and he didn't have a good answer for that question. He could tell Leon that the scrying spell had shown him that he was immortal too, but Leon had been Arthur's guardian knight for the young king's whole life- Merlin wasn't sure that knowing Merlin would also live forever would be of any comfort, given his recent failings. Instead, he turned his attention to Percival.

"Yes, but Percival, you have to understand. It's _forever_, not for... not for a hundred years, or two hundred. He needs to know before he drinks from the cup. This isn't a choice anyone can make for him," Merlin heard himself saying, although he half-wished he didn't. Company for all the lifetimes he had to wait? Not just company, but his best friend? It would make the waiting far less painful. But he couldn't- wouldn't- ask Gwaine to do this. That would be selfish, and he'd already promised himself that he was done being selfish where his friend was concerned. If Gwaine didn't want to live forever, Merlin would do whatever he had to to make him comfortable so he could go in peace, no matter how much it killed him to do so.

Percival bit his lip and nodded, his stomach churning at what he knew, even now, that Gwaine would likely say when faced with such a decision. Hoping he was wrong, "Well. But it's the only thing to save him. We should at least head in that direction. If he dies, or—wants to die, well, we should at least get him at the point where he can make that choice for himself," he said.

He stepped toward the door, to go saddle the horses or gather supplies or he knew not what, but Leon stopped him with a grip on his arm:

"Make sure you let him make his own choice," Leon, who had not had such an option, told him.

Percival nodded.

...

_**AN:** Apologies for the short post and the long wait! Unfortunately it's crunch time in school, but I thought I'd give you something just so you all knew I was still alive! Thanks as always for your patience!_


	8. Chapter 8

_**AN:** Now it looks like I may have forgotten about this fic...and okay, I kind of forgot about it, what with end of semester and teaching over the summer and also laziness. Anyway I'm back now, and this story is mainly done, so you have my permission to poke me if I don't post updates weekly as I ought. Thanks to all those who favorited, reviewed, etc while this story was on haitus. Thanks also to my co-authors Caitydid and Effervescent Aardvark for helping with Merlin and Percival, respectively. _

...

What little Gwaine knew was movement, cold and pain. He did not bother, or perhaps dare, to open his eyes, but he felt the warmth and recognized the smell of Percival. The world moved in time to Percival's horse's steady plodding. He felt safe, comfortable—well, not comfortable, but comfort_ed_—but everything hurt. Everything. His muscles hurt, his bones hurt, his blood hurt. He felt thick and slow and ill, like he was made up of pain and poison and darkness instead of blood and bones and life.

Percival, on the other hand, felt better once they were on the road. Not good, not even okay, but better, because at least the desperation now had a hope to cling to, at least they could _do_ something now, and they were doing it instead of just standing about wringing their hands. They traveled in silence, and traveled quickly. Percival let Merlin lead the way and let his horse follow Merlin's in order to give all his attention to Gwaine. He hadn't been quick enough to save him before, but there was no stopping him now. He had seen Lancelot die, he had seen Elyan die, but he was not going to see Gwaine die.

It had been raining all day, and as the sun set it grew dark quickly. "We should stop here," Merlin said. "Can't go much farther in the dark, and if we leave at first light we should be there by midday."

Percival got the shelter up and placed Gwaine inside it while Merlin took care of the horses. He then set about trying to start a fire with their wet wood but could only manage it with the help of Merlin's magic.

Gwaine did not eat, but slept on—so obviously consumed by pain when he wasn't practically catatonic—and so Percival and Merlin did not much feel like eating either.

The shelter was a small, miserable and oppressive place. Percival tried to smile encouragingly at Merlin in thanks for the soup he handed him, but it wasn't helping much. "I'll just be a moment." He told Merlin, after he ran a hand through Gwaine's hair and checked him again. Crawling out of the shelter he stood with a pained grunt, his tired, stiff muscles protesting as he stretched them out, trying to stop them from seizing up too much. This done, he headed a little way to the nearest large tree to see to some pressing business.

The soup was next-to-tasteless, and Merlin only managed to eat half of his bowl before he gave up and set it aside. When Percival left, it gave him room to move around within the small shelter, and he set about making more willowbark tea before settling back down next to Gwaine to see if the knight's condition had changed at all. He was unsurprised to find that his friend still wouldn't wake, and still seemed to be in a significant amount of pain.

Since he'd been able to light the firewood earlier, Merlin thought he could give healing Gwaine—or at least making him more comfortable—another go. But when he closed his eyes and rested his hand gently on Gwaine's forehead, he found that trying to do anything about the poison was like trying to beat off a gryphon with a toothpick. He tried anyway, willing his magic to cooperate and let him help Gwaine. He wasn't sure he did anything more than give himself another headache. With a sigh, he shuffled back to the fire and poured a mug of willowbark tea, then retreated back to where he'd been sitting before Percival had left.

The problem started as a dull weight that Gwaine could hardly separate from the rest of the pain. Then the weight grew to an ache, to a solid blockage, to a wheeze—and only now Gwaine realized the source of the pain was in his lungs—and then the weight grew and grew, a trough resting on his chest and slowly filling up with water. Gwaine might have given up then, let it keep filling up until it killed him and be done with it, done with everything, but then—

Percival was gone. Gwaine hadn't even really properly registered that Percival was _there_, so it came as a shock when suddenly he knew he was alone. Merlin was gone, too. And being alone startled—no, _frightened_—him enough to draw in a tiny gasp, or to try to, and when he couldn't, it was like waking out of a dream into a nightmare and he needed out, he needed up, he needed help. There was a sudden spike of pain as if someone had literally thrust a spike between his ribs, and he was using the last of his breath to cry out, and using the last of his strength to roll over and open unseeing eyes and _help, help, I need help. I can't breathe_.

Merlin looked up from his blank consideration of the tea in his mug when he heard Gwaine move and make a very small, strangled noise. At first he thought he was only moving in his sleep, but then he was flailing about and his eyes were open without appearing to actually look at anything, and Merlin realized the sound of Gwaine's harsh breathing had stopped. Merlin shouted at Percival to get his attention even as he scrambled over to Gwaine and pushed him to a sitting position. "Breathe, Gwaine, come on, don't do this," he said, bordering on panic, and thumped the knight on the back, though he hesitated to do it very hard for fear of making the problem worse.

Hearing Merlin's shouts ran back and slid through the entrance to the shelter, eyes wide in panic. "What's wrong? What's happening?"

Gwaine was snatching at the edge of the blanket, at handfuls of grass, at Merlin's sleeve, trying to hold himself up. He wanted to be upside down, to let the poison rush out. He was drowning in sludge. Ugh, and it tasted—oh, good, it was beginning to come up—the whatever his chest was trying to do was working—it tasted like blood and, like blackness, like how the color black and the smell of burning pitch might taste. He got a tiny breath in his lungs in between the rush of hot blood and molten poison that was melting his insides, and cried out, his limbs flailing as he struggled to breathe. He couldn't go out like this, he wouldn't die like this.

Merlin gave up trying to knock the air back into Gwaine's lungs and settled for pinning the knight's arms to his sides, hugging Gwaine to his chest in an attempt to prevent him from flailing. He'd only make it worse, using up his breath by panicking. Under ordinary circumstances, Merlin would never have been able to hold Gwaine's arms to his sides, and it still wasn't easy, but if he could even stop a little bit of the flailing...

"_Please_ calm down, Gwaine, you're making it worse," he said, forcing the panic out of his voice as he spoke, and then he looked at Percival, clearly pleading for help. Percival was good at getting through to Gwaine, maybe he could get him to calm down.

Near panic himself, wishing he knew _what_ to do, Percival sat down next to them, and reached out for Gwaine, catching one of his hands and enveloping it in his, and holding the back of Gwaine's neck with the other, "Easy Gwaine, we've got you. It's gonna be okay..." He tried to keep his voice low, his tone reassuring.

Gwaine grunted and choked, pushing against the voices. There was _nothing_ easy about this, and nothing calming down would help. But Merlin and Percival were here now, maybe they could help. And at first it seemed that they were right, for slowing down his panicked breaths did help him sneak yet another small but slower gasp of breath in. "Need—" he said, and coughed up a chunk of what might have been a piece of his lung or just coagulated blood, "it's in—" but there just wasn't enough air to explain. Gwaine felt on the verge of tears, on the verge of another full blown wave of panic.

When Gwaine coughed, and subsequently tried to tell them what was wrong, Merlin realized this was exactly what he _needed_ to do, and looked at Percival, scrambling out of the bigger knight's way. "Hit his back hard enough to make him cough up whatever's in his lungs," he said, taking Gwaine's hand as Percival had done, for whatever comfort that might offer his friend.

Percival tilted Gwaine forward over the arm he wrapped around his front. Hoping his wasn't doing more damage, he thumped Gwaine, once, twice, three times in the center of his back, muttering a mix of apologies and soothing nonsense into Gwaine's ear as he did so.

"Ack!" Gwaine cried when he could, his fingers scrabbling at the arm that was holding him and the hand that was gripping him, instinctively trying to tilt his head so that his throat was open. He hacked and coughed, and it was coming out his nose now, but finally there was enough breath in him, and lifting himself up, leveraging against Percival's chest, he gave a mighty heave and a huge solid chunk of something disgusting and a wave of blood and blackness followed. He coughed a few more times, collapsing boneless against Percival, and began to draw in tentative but needy gulps of air. He was shaking. "Guh," he moaned, too spent to find words.

But as his mind cleared he became aware of voices speaking to him, and hands on him, rubbing his back, his arms, and they didn't hurt, or, didn't hurt more than they were a comfort. Coughing pathetically, "Okay, let's not do that again," he said. After a few more breaths: "Thanks," he managed.

Percival rubbed Gwaine's back soothingly. "You just need to hang on. It's going to be okay...we're going to fix this."

Gwaine coughed again. "Okay," he said unenthusiastically. Then, "I just don't want to go out like that. That…was gross." He looked at the pool of black blood beneath him, the sight and smell of it making him want to hurl—again—so he closed his eyes and turned his face away, trying to bury it against Percival's shoulder and smearing blood across him. "Can I have some water, please?"

Merlin jumped up and retrieved one of the waterskins, which he brought back and handed to Percival, because Gwaine didn't look up to holding it himself. Then he crouched next to them, looking carefully at Gwaine.

"I brought tea, too, if you think you can drink it," he said, "And there's soup." And, with a raggedy shirt he'd also brought over, reached over and gently cleaned the blood off of Gwaine's face. "You won't die, Gwaine. We... we might have an idea."

Percival rocked Gwaine gently, holding him close as Merlin cleaned him and then carefully brought the waterskin to Gwaine's mouth.

Gwaine drank greedily until the cold water hit his stomach and made it churn, and then turned his face away. Maybe something warm. "Maybe tea?" he asked. He coughed gently, shaking up what was left of the gunk in his lungs. "What's the plan?"

"Merlin makes the best tea." Percival smiled, he was shaking in reaction at what had happened almost as much as Gwaine was, but he was awake, he was talking... "There's this cup," he explained: "it can heal you. The druids, they used it on Leon a while back and it saved him."

"It's called the Cup of Life. We know where it is, and how to use it. If you drink from it, it will heal you," Merlin said, and then hesitated, catching Percival's glance.

"And... well, we thought we'd go get it. Just... just in case?" Percival said, completely failing to explain himself clearly.

Merlin held the cup of tea for Gwaine to drink it as Percival explained their plan. When Percival fell silent, Merlin picked up where he'd left off. "I found it with a spell, so we know where it is. We're taking you to it," he added, in case Gwaine had thought far enough to wonder what he was doing in the middle of the forest instead of back at Camelot.

Gwaine considered this. "Wait. The one Cenred and Morgause had?" He started weakly. "That won't turn me into one of those unkillable mind-controlled zombies?"

"No, no! that won't happen! Right, Merlin?" Percival looked over at Merlin for support. "Leon drank from it."

"Oh, that's all right, then," Gwaine said. Leon was definitely not an unkillable mind-controlled zombie.

"No. Well... no. Not a zombie," Merlin said, "But... people who drink from the cup become immortal. Leon is—probably, we don't know, but we guess—immortal. But he isn't a zombie," he said, and then stopped talking, looking anxiously between Gwaine and Percival.

"You'll live." Percival added, "You'll be okay again."

Gwaine bridled. "Wait, like, I'll _never_ die kind of immortal?" There was a time in Gwaine's life where that might have appealed to him. When he was younger (he felt ancient now, old and weary) but now he understood loss, understood pain, understood that living forever would hurt more than anything. "Immortal isn't _okay_," he said, frowning deeply, as if this was common knowledge he suspected his companions were somehow unaware of.

"But we don't know any other way to save you, Gwaine," Merlin said a little desperately. Then he realized this was not likely to convince Gwaine of anything, so added, "And you wouldn't be alone, Leon could keep you company." He swallowed, because what he was about to say would mean staying in Camelot forever, no matter how badly he wanted to leave. Then again, if he had even one friend to stay in Camelot _for_, it wouldn't be so bad. "And me. I'll be there, too," he admitted softly, looking down at his hands.

Gwaine pushed against Percival to sit up a little. "No! Are you crazy? No one wants to live forever!" he cried. Maybe he was still angry with Merlin a little bit. But when Merlin's face fell, Gwaine realized the real torture was just beginning.

"But Gwaine, you're going to die..." Percival's grip tightened around him, "You can worry about forever later, but right now, there isn't going to be a later."

"Percival," Gwaine turned around, forcing Percival to release him and sitting up under mainly his own power. "That's powerful magic, anyway. Isn't there supposed to be some rule about magic taking a life where it saves one? You want to put that on my conscience?" The conscience he didn't have, admittedly, else this would be a lot easier.

Merlin cut in: "Now, wait, we don't know the cup will do that."

"But it might." Gwaine huffed. "You want to risk that? For something I don't—" He turned back to Percival with a sigh: "I'm tired, Perce," he whispered quietly. "No one wants to be here til Judgment Day." He glanced guiltily at Merlin.

"But Gwaine..." Percival breathed. "Leon, and Merlin..." He looked away, wanting to plead and beg.

"_You_ won't be there," Gwaine pointed out, snapping at Percival as his hackles rose.

"I'll be there tomorrow, next week, next year!" Percival tried a final time.

Gwaine shook his head. He was beginning to feel very ill again. He collapsed backward and drew himself away until he was up against the tree they were sheltered under, and he hugged his knees. "I'm sorry," he said, and he was sorry, only it came out dismissive, more 'leave me alone,' ignoring that Percival sounded on the verge of tears or a mental breakdown. Maybe if he made all his friends hate him they wouldn't miss him.

Percival waved his arms in front of him as if trying to fend off Gwaine's words. Stumbling to his feet he looked at Merlin. "I can't...I've got to...Merlin. Can you look after him? I need to—I can't do this..." And shaking his head he stumbled blindly out of the shelter and into the darkness outside.

Merlin sat wordlessly as Gwaine and Percival argued, listening but trying not to listen, and trying to avoid thinking about anything Gwaine was saying about immortality. He didn't quite reach up to cover his ears, but he did sit very still, and stared at his hands, and didn't look up until he heard his name and Percival stormed off. He blinked in surprise at the sudden quiet and looked at Gwaine. Then, still without speaking, he moved to sit next to Gwaine against the tree, needing desperately just to _be there_. He would have gone after Percival, but he wasn't sure he wanted to risk the knight's temper if he followed and left Gwaine alone. So he slouched against the tree, knees drawn up to his chest, and stared at the ground about ten feet away.

Gwaine made absolutely sure not to cry, as if his very life depended on it, though he felt a stinging behind his eyes and a thickness in his throat. "I'm sorry," he whispered after a moment, but he still couldn't bear to look at Merlin. "I'm sorry you didn't get a choice. Please—" but he stopped before he said the next bit, because of course Merlin would respect his choice, he didn't need to ask, so, "please look after Percy for me," he said. And then a tear did fall, but it was on the opposite side of his face so maybe Merlin didn't see. "And look after yourself, mate."

"I will," Merlin said, his voice even softer than Gwaine's, because he didn't trust it to be any louder without either shaking or breaking. Unobtrusively, he turned his head away from Gwaine and brushed several tears from his face with his shoulder, rather than raising a hand and alerting Gwaine to the fact that he wasn't at all holding it together.

Outside, Percival hugged his arms about himself as he walked around the camp, not able to make himself travel outside of hearing range, but not able to stay, not able to take Gwaine's surrender. Gwaine always fought, always. But Percival hadn't been fast enough and Gwaine was dying, and Percival was going to have to watch another friend stop breathing, stop living. Another person he was going to have to bury. Wanting to scream and shout at the world, not wanting to scare the others he curled himself up under a tree and shook and shook.


	9. Chapter 9

When Gwaine's breathing evened out again—still labored, but he was definitely sleeping—Merlin pulled him back to the blankets where he'd been resting and covered him up so he'd stay warm. Then he retreated to the fire, wrapping a blanket around his shoulders and letting his eyes drift shut, because he just couldn't stay awake anymore. He needed the safe haven of thoughtless sleep.

He didn't realize he'd toppled over to his side until a very loud noise awoke him. He sat up in a flurry of flailing limbs and tangled blanket to see men storming the camp. One was coming right at him, weapon raised, and his eyes flashed gold.

Nothing happened. Oh, right, because magic still wasn't working reliably. Merlin scrambled back, holding his arms up to shield himself, suffering from a sudden and terrifying sense of déjà vu, except that this time, there was no Gwaine to come to his rescue, and in a split second, he realized he had no idea where Percival had gone either.

The noise jolted Percival out of—whatever it was he'd been in, it wasn't sleep, but it wasn't not-sleep either. He realized the noise was coming from the little camp he'd set up and at the same time he realized he'd left Merlin and Gwaine unprotected. Guilt and recrimination flooded in along with rage and anger and it was with a hideous scream of pent up rage and despair that he burst out of the darkness and onto the first of the would-be bandits preparing to attack Merlin.

Gwaine started awake blurrily to the sound of fighting, only he was back to not being able to see again, apparently, and his attempt to move after the initial jolt was fruitless, and he experienced a stab of fear where he thought he no longer had the ability to feel. What was going on? "Merlin? Percival!" he cried, but he wasn't sure any of it got out.

Percival carved his way through the bandits, only vaguely aware that he was screaming the whole time. Forgetting his training, he used nothing but brute strength to cut down the men who would hurt Merlin and Gwaine.

He didn't know how long it took, it could have been seconds, or years, but eventually there were no more enemies and he stood in front of the shelter, an enormous blood spattered figure looming out of the dark. "Are you okay? Are you both okay?" He asked Merlin, not bothering to wipe the blood that ran down his face as he fought to get his breath back.

Merlin scrambled over to Gwaine while Percival took care of the entire crew of bandits. Silence had fallen before he could even register what was going on—well, relative silence, since Percival was looming just outside the shelter and asking if they were okay. Merlin blinked at him in shock.

"I... yes. We're okay. Is any of that yours?" Merlin asked, inching out from the shelter and looking at the blood that was spattered all over Percival.

"What? Hmm, no." Percival looked at the blood and then dismissed it as unimportant. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have left you. Either of you." He found himself stammering out the apology. He'd been selfish and worse, a coward. He didn't deserve to wear the cloak of Camelot.

And then sight came back, just in time for Gwaine to see Percival— "Oh. My. God," he said deliriously, blinking at the bodies all around them and for the first time more than a little terrified of Percival. "You, um." It was clear Percival wasn't okay, so he didn't ask. "C'mere," he said instead, holding out his hand toward Percival.

Percival looked at the hand Gwaine was holding out, and he didn't want to take it, he didn't. Gwaine had given up on them, on him. Gwaine was going to make him watch him die. But eventually, reluctantly, for Gwaine, because he was dying and Percival was going to fake being okay for his sake until that happened, he took the hand.

"Thank you," Gwaine said, his eyes boring into Percival's as he crushed his hand with the last reserves of his strength. "For everything." He held that gaze a little longer before, "Now don't go joining me sooner than you're supposed to," he said, a grim smile on his face. "Because until then, I need you to watch out for Merlin for me, okay?" He'd given up trying not to cry.

Percival wanted to scream all over again, to tell Gwaine that _he_ could bloody well look after Merlin and it wasn't fair to leave him like this, but he nodded wordlessly and sat down next to Gwaine.

"I'm sorry, Perce," Gwaine said. Nothing else mattered. "You don't have to forgive me now, or ever." But he shrugged. "I'm sorry."

Percival just shook his head and moved back behind Gwaine, gathering him close again, never mind the blood. "Nothing to apologize for, nothing..." he told Gwaine, cushioning his head against his shoulder.

There was, there was worlds to apologize for, but Gwaine accepted the comfort anyway.

...

"Sorry for leaving you last night," Percival said the next morning as he and Merlin set about packing up the camp. "Won't happen again."

"It's all right, Percival," Merlin insisted. You didn't know, he wanted to add, and we all need our time to grieve, but it seemed to him that that would only make everything worse, so he kept silent.

"What—" Percival started to say, choked, swallowed, took a moment to regain his composure, and started again. "What are we going to do now?"

"Well," Merlin said. He'd often complained to Arthur that he was the only practical one ever, and true to form, he had been thinking about this. It didn't matter to find the Druids or find the Cup now, and it didn't do to let Gwaine die out in the open like this, so they might as well head back. They weren't far from Camelot, and he could be more comfortable there. "I think we should go back. I think Camelot's the only home Gwaine's ever really known, so—" he trailed off, and shrugged.

Percival nodded. He really was putting forth a valiant effort not to break down, but Merlin didn't know how long this would last. "I'll get the horses ready, then," he said.


End file.
